Читать книгу Newborn on Her Doorstep - Ellie Darkins - Страница 9
ОглавлениеKATE BURST THROUGH the door of the treatment room, wearing her air of drama queen as if it was this season’s must-have.
Lily smiled at the arrival of her best friend. If anyone was going to help her make sense of this situation it would be Kate, with her remarkable ability to see through half-truths and get straight to the point.
‘So I get back from court and pop in to see my brother in his new flat, and he’s got this crazy story about your dear sister and a baby and a hospital. I didn’t have a clue what was going on, so I thought I’d better get down here and find out just what he’s talking about. Explain, Lily! Where’s this flippin’ baby come from? What are you doing here? And why does my brother look so cagey whenever I mention your name?’
Lily couldn’t help but laugh—trust Kate to boil this down to the bare essentials.
‘She’s Helen’s baby. Helen left her on my doorstep with a note. Your brother was passing by to pick up his keys and...and kept us company while we were waiting here.’
It was rare that she saw Kate lost for words, but she dropped into a chair now, silent, and Lily could practically see the thoughts being processed behind her eyes. Her barrister’s brain was reading all the evidence, everything that Lily was saying, and everything she wasn’t.
‘Okay, give it to me again. And this time with details.’
Lily sighed and took a breath, wondering how many times she would have to repeat everything that had happened. But when she came to talking about Nic her words stumbled and faltered.
‘Nic turned up to collect his keys just as I’d been left literally holding the baby and was freaking out. He suggested we walk over here and have her checked out.’
‘And then he waited with you? How long for?’
Lily glanced at her watch. ‘A couple of hours, I guess.’
Kate blew out a deliberate breath, and Lily raised her eyebrows.
‘What?’
‘Nothing...nothing,’ Kate said, but Lily had known her long enough to know that she was hiding something.
‘Not nothing,’ she told her best friend. ‘Definitely something.’
Kate looked at her for a long time before she replied.
‘Something,’ she agreed, nodding, her eyes sad. ‘But not my something to tell. Can we leave it at that?’
Lily nodded. Though she was intrigued, her friend’s rare sombre tone had pulled her up short and warned her to stop digging.
‘So you and my brother, then...?’
‘It’s not like that.’ The denial came to Lily’s lips as soon as she realised what Kate was getting at. ‘I don’t think he wanted to be here at all. He looked like he was going to bolt the whole time.’
‘So why didn’t he?’
True to form, Kate had hit on the one question that Lily had been searching for an answer to—to no avail.
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘I’ve got one or two,’ Kate said with a sly grin. ‘So what happens with the baby now?’
Another question Lily had no answer to.
No doubt between the hospital staff and the police someone would be arranging for a social worker to visit her. But she had no intention of letting her niece be looked after by anyone but herself. She knew that she could look after her—she already ran a business from home, and had flexibility in her hours and her work. It was one of the things that she enjoyed most about her job as a freelance web designer—the chance to balance work and home life. She’d manage her work commitments around caring for the baby—whatever it took to keep the little girl safe and with her family.
‘She’s coming home with me.’
Lily gulped at the baldness of that statement, and backtracked.
‘Until we can find Helen.’
‘Right. And then you’re going to hand her over to a woman who’s been living God-knows-where and doing God-knows-what for years?’
‘Helen’s her mother—’
‘And she seems pretty clear about who she wants taking care of her daughter. I’m not saying that taking her home is a bad thing—she’s family. Of course you want to look after her. I’m just saying it looks like it might be slightly more commitment than a regular babysitting gig. Are you ready for that?’
Ready for a family? It was what she’d wanted for as long as she could remember. She’d been lucky after her mother had died. She’d been placed with a wonderful foster family who had slowly and gently helped her to come to terms with her grief. She’d certainly been luckier than her sister, who, at sixteen, had decided that she was old enough to look after herself.
They’d exchanged letters and emails, but over the years they’d become less and less frequent, until now she couldn’t even rely on a card at Christmas. All she wanted was a family of her own. To recapture something of what the three of them—herself, her mum and Helen—had had before the accident.
She’d even looked into ways to build that family. After her own experience of foster care she’d thought of offering her house to children who might need it.
The old family home had seemed echoey and empty when she’d moved back in when she was eighteen. Her mother’s will had protected it in a trust for her and her sister, but it had been lonely with no one to share it with. But she’d never considered she’d ever be handed a newborn baby and asked if she was ready to be a parent.
‘We have to find Helen,’ Lily said. ‘That’s as far as I can think right now.’
‘There is one slight flaw in that plan,’ Kate said.
‘Only one?’ Lily asked, only half joking.
‘Your house. It’s currently a building site, and—unless I’m much mistaken—not exactly ready for a newborn...whether she’s going to be there permanently or not.’
Lily’s face fell. In all the drama she’d somehow managed to forget the chaotic state of her house. There was no way that she could take a baby back there. And if she couldn’t take care of her niece that left only one option. Letting social services place her with strangers. Her gut recoiled at the thought of losing another member of her family, of her and Helen and their past being fractured even further.
‘Don’t look like that,’ Kate said. ‘This is not insurmountable. We can sort this out—’
‘That’s really kind,’ Lily said, her mind still racing, ‘but your place barely has enough room for me to pull out the sofa bed. I’m not sure that—’
‘Not me!’ Kate exclaimed. ‘Good God, no. We’d lose the baby under a stack of briefs or something. Nic’s place—it’s perfect.’
Lily gave a little choke.
‘Nic’s place? I couldn’t possibly impose...’
She couldn’t share a flat with that man—not when she felt drawn to him and afraid of that attraction in equal measure. When her skin tingled just from being in the same room as him.
‘Honestly, you should see his place. It’s ridiculous. A penthouse—overlooking the river, naturally. He told me it was something to do with investing his golden handshake money, and London property prices, and being able to do so much more with the money once he sold up. Personally, I think it might have something to do with sleeping in hostels for the best part of a decade. It’s huge, and he’s barely ever there.’
Even the thought of a Thameside penthouse couldn’t convince her that spending more time with a man who had her wanting him and wanting to run from him was a good idea. But what choice did she have? If she wanted to take care of her niece she couldn’t afford to be picky about what help she accepted. And, anyway, what she thought was probably irrelevant...
‘Nic would never—’
‘Nic will be travelling on and off for the next few months. He’s due to fly out again tomorrow, I think. You won’t see each other much. And if the man who’s preached charity and child welfare at me for the past ten years can’t see it in his heart to give an abandoned baby a home for a few months, then I’ll disown him.’
Somehow Lily didn’t think that was a threat that would carry much weight for Nic.
‘And trash his lovely new apartment,’ she added.
‘Okay, ask him,’ Lily said eventually. What choice did she have?
An awkward silence fell for a few moments, until Kate obviously couldn’t stand the quiet any longer.
‘So, does this little one have a name, or what?’
Lily shook her head. ‘Helen didn’t exactly say.’
‘Well, that’s just not right, is it? She’s had a rough enough start in life already, without ending up being named just Baby Girl. So what are we going to go for: naming her after a pop star or a soap star. Or we could go big and Hollywood?’
Lily raised an eyebrow.
‘Okay, so I’m guessing that’s a no. What do you suggest?’
Lily looked closely at the baby, trying to work out who she was. ‘Look at her,’ Lily said. ‘All pretty and pink and fresh and soft...like a flower. A rose. What about Rosie?’
‘I think it’s perfect,’ Kate agreed. ‘Little Rosie—welcome to the world.’
* * *
Nic’s feet pounded on the pavement as he tried to get thoughts of Lily Baker out of his head—with zero success. Since the moment he’d met her she’d invaded all of his thoughts, forcing him to keep busy, keep working, keep running. But even two days on his body still wouldn’t co-operate, refusing to find the quiet place in his mind where he could retreat from the world.
His sister wasn’t exactly helping, with her pointed remarks and regular updates on how baby and aunt were faring. Did she think he couldn’t see what she was doing? That the strings of her puppeteering were somehow invisible? But he did wonder how the baby was. Kate had said that she was doing well, and the doctors hadn’t seemed worried when he’d left the hospital, but he knew better than most how precarious a new life was, how quickly it might be lost.
Turning for home, he tried to find his usual rhythm, but his feet carried him faster than he wanted, rushing him.
His mobile rang as he reached his flat, and Kate’s latest unsubtle update gave him all he needed to know. No news on the missing sister. Baby apparently doing well in hospital. But somehow it wasn’t enough. What did that mean anyway? ‘Doing well in hospital.’ Surely if the baby was ‘doing well’ then she wouldn’t be in hospital at all. She’d be home, tucked into a cot, safe. And this time Kate had not said anything about Lily.
He hadn’t been able to think of a way to ask about her without raising suspicious eyebrows. He could hardly say, And how about the aunt? The one with the glowing skin and the complicated expressions and the fierce independence? How’s she getting on?
But he was desperate to know. Lily Baker seemed to have soaked into his mind until his every thought was coloured by her. It was no good. The only way he was going to get this woman and her niece out of his mind was to get some answers, some closure.
He saw her as soon as he walked onto the ward. He should have known that she would have been there all night. Had been there for two nights, he guessed. Her hair was mussed, rubbing up against the side of the chair she’d curled into, but her face was relaxed, looking so different from when she’d worn that troubled, burdened expression before.
He knocked on the door, aware that he didn’t want to answer the questions that being caught watching her sleep would give rise to. Lily sat bolt upright at the sound, her hand instinctively reaching for the cot, eyes flying towards the baby. Only once she was satisfied that she was sleeping soundly did she turn towards the door. Her eyes widened in surprise, and he realised how unguarded she was in the moment after waking—how her expression shifted as her eyes skimmed over him appreciatively.
There was no mistaking the interest there, and his stomach tightened in response as he fought down his instinctive reaction. Eventually her eyes reached his, and he saw her barriers start to build as she emerged properly from sleep. Her back straightened and her face grew composed.
The rational, sensible, thinking part of his brain breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad that she was as wary as he was of this energy he felt flowing and sparking between them, the pull that he felt between their bodies. Much as he might find her attractive, he would never act on that. He wasn’t the kind of man she needed in her life. When she found someone she’d need a partner—a father for this child and the ones that would come in the future. She would need someone she could rely on, and he knew that he wasn’t capable of being that man.
But the part of his brain less removed from his primal ancestors groaned, trying to persuade him to get that dreamy look back on her face, to seduce her into softness.
‘Morning,’ he said, rather more briskly than he’d intended. ‘I brought coffee. I know the stuff here’s awful.’
‘Morning. Thanks...’
Her voice was as wary as her expression, and he guessed that he wasn’t the only one who’d thought that they would never see each other again after he’d left the hospital. He wondered if she’d found it as impossible not to think of him as he had of her. Of course not, he reasoned. She had the baby to think about—there was probably no room in her life right now for anything other than feeding, nappies and sleep.
At the sound of her voice the baby had started to stir, and Lily automatically reached out a hand to stroke her cheek.
‘How is she?’
‘She’s fine...good. They’ve said that I can take her home today.’
Home. So that settled it, then. Kate had been right the other day—Lily was going to look after the baby as her sister had asked. And that meant he’d been right to fight off this attraction. Because if there was one thing he was certain of it was that he could never get involved with someone who had a child. He could never again open himself up to that sort of hurt.
Even if Lily’s sister returned, he couldn’t imagine that Lily saw a future without children. He’d seen the melting look in her eye as she’d gazed down at her niece—there was no hiding her maternal instincts.
‘That’s good. I’m glad she’s okay.’ Now that he had his answer he felt awkward, not sure why he had come. No doubt Lily was wondering what he was doing there, too. Or perhaps not. Perhaps his real interest was as transparent to her as it had been opaque to him.
Perhaps he had imagined this energy and attraction—imagined the way her eyes widened whenever her skin brushed against his, the way she flushed in those rare moments when they both risked eye contact. Maybe she saw him as nothing other than the Good Samaritan who had happened to be there when she’d needed someone. If only she knew that when someone else had really needed him, when they’d relied on him to be there for them, he’d let them down.
He glanced up at the name plate above the crib and realised that the little girl was no longer Baby Baker.
‘Rosie?’ he asked, surprise in his voice. Kate hadn’t mentioned that.
‘It seemed to suit her,’ Lily said with a shrug. ‘It’s not official yet. If Helen doesn’t like it...’
‘It’s pretty.’
‘Look, I hate to ask this when you’re already doing so much for us...’
Lily glanced at the door and Nic guessed what was coming. Instantly he wished himself anywhere in the world but here. But Lily was still speaking, and he knew that it was too late.
‘...just for fifteen minutes or so, while I grab a shower. I know the nurses are listening out for her, but I hate the thought of her being alone. I know I can trust you with her.’
A lump blocked his throat and he couldn’t force the word no out past it. He’d not been responsible for a child since the morning he’d found his son, cold and still in his crib. But the look on Lily’s face—the trust that he saw there—touched his heart in a way he hadn’t realised was even still possible. And more than anything he wanted to know that the baby—little Rosie—was going to be okay. That was why he’d dragged himself down here, after all. Fifteen minutes alone with a sleeping baby—surely he could manage that, could ensure that she was safe while Lily was away?
He nodded. ‘Sure, go ahead. You look like you could do with a break.’
Her smile held for a moment before her face fell. Oh, God, that wasn’t what he’d meant at all. He’d all but said, You look awful, hadn’t he? What was it about this woman that made it so impossible for him to function anything like normal?
He started back-pedalling fast. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that at all. You look fine. I mean—I just meant you’ve slept in that chair two nights in a row, and I bet you’re tired. You look great.’
This wasn’t getting any better. But Lily grinned at him, probably enjoying his discomfort, and the fact that he didn’t seem at all able to remove his foot from his mouth.
A disconcerting noise and a very bad smell halted Nic’s apology in its tracks, and as he caught Lily’s eyes they both laughed.
‘Well, perhaps if you change her I might find it in my heart to forgive you.’
Before he had a chance to argue she was out of the room, leaving him alone with the baby. This was not at all what he’d expected when he’d reluctantly agreed to watch a sleeping baby for fifteen minutes, but he reached for the nappies and the cotton wool, acting on instinct.
He narrowed his eyes, trying not to see Rosie’s little pink cheeks or her tiny fingers. He just had to concentrate on the task in hand, and he could do that without really looking at her, without thinking about the fact that this little body was a whole new life—maybe a hundred years of potential all contained in seven pounds of toes and belly and new baby smell. Without thinking about his son.
He had nearly finished the nappy when Rosie began to fuss. As he fastened the poppers on her Babygro and washed his hands, he silently pleaded with her not to start crying. But her face screwed up and the tears started, and her banshee-like wail was impossible to ignore. He shut his eyes as he scooped a hand under her head and another under her bottom and lifted her to his shoulder, making soothing noises that he hoped would quiet her. He tried not to think at all as he bounced her gently, waiting for her tears to stop, tried not to think of the first time he had held his son, Max.
Or the last time.
The memory made him clutch Rosie a little tighter, hold her a little safer, knowing how precarious a young life could be. Eventually her cries slowed to sniffles as she snuggled closer to his shoulder and started looking for a source of food. He looked around the room, wondering where he’d lay his hands on formula and a bottle. He could ask the nurses, he supposed.
He transferred Rosie to the crook of one arm, only flinching momentarily at the remembered familiarity of the movement, and headed for the door. As it opened he was greeted by the sight of Lily, fresh from the shower, with no make-up and her hair pulled back, and it took his breath away.
Any chance of kidding himself that his interest was only in Rosie’s welfare was lost. It was more than that. It was...her. He just couldn’t stop thinking about her. But that was the problem. If he’d met Lily just one day earlier, before her sister had turned up with a baby, he wouldn’t have hesitated to explore this connection between them, to imagine Lily looking as she did now—all fresh and pink and polished from the shower. But the shower would have been in his flat, and she’d have just left his bed.
Everything about her fascinated him. But she’d taken in her sister’s child without a thought. And because of that he knew that they could never be happy together. He could see from her every look at Rosie that Lily was born to be a mother. She wanted a family, and he could never give her that—nor could he ask her to sacrifice it for him. There was no point considering a brief fling, either: a taste of her would never be enough—and if he started to fall for her then how would he make himself stop? And all that was even without the added complication of his sister’s unspoken threats to hurt him in a very sensitive place if he messed with her best friend.
‘I was just going to try and find her a bottle.’
Lily waved the bottle of formula she was carrying. ‘No need. I see you couldn’t resist a cuddle? I don’t blame you—she’s very squeezable.’
‘It’s not like that,’ he replied instinctively. ‘She was crying, that’s all. Here—take her.’ He almost shoved the baby at her, alarmed at how quickly he’d adapted, how natural it had felt to hold her.
‘What’s wrong?’ Lily asked, her eyes wary. ‘I don’t mind you holding her.’
‘I know.’ Nic breathed slowly, trying to fight the urge to run from the room, knowing that he should explain his harsh words to Lily. Hating the wary, guarded look that had just entered her eyes. ‘I’m just not good around babies.’
She glanced down at Rosie, who looked happy and content. ‘Seems like you’re pretty good to me.’
An awkward silence fell between them, and Lily looked as if she was trying to find the right words to say something. Suddenly he wanted out of the room. Her face was serious, and he wondered if she had guessed about his past, or if Kate had told her about it. His heart started racing as he remembered all the times he had failed at that in the past. All the broken conversations, the broken relationships that had followed.
‘Nic, I don’t know how to thank you for being there for us the other day. And Kate told me—’
Before he knew it he was reaching for her, wanting to stem the flow of her words. He didn’t want to know what Kate had told her of his failings as a father and a partner.
He’d do anything to stop her speaking.
His lips pressed against hers as his fingers cradled her jaw, and for just a second he wondered what would happen if she opened her mouth to him, if her body softened and relaxed against him. If this kiss changed from a desperate plea for mercy to something softer, something more passionate. But he pulled away before it had the chance.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, shutting his eyes against the confusion on her face and heading towards the door. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’
* * *
Lily stood shell-shocked in the middle of the hospital room, the baby in one arm and the bottle held loosely in her other hand. What on earth had just happened? She’d been about to thank him for letting them stay with him—just until the work on her house was finished. But the cornered look in his eyes had stopped her words, and the kiss he’d pressed against her lips had stopped her thoughts.
It had been difficult enough to see herself living in his apartment. How was she meant to do it now, with this kiss between them, dragging up every fantasy she’d been forcing herself to bury? If she’d had any other option she’d have jumped at it. But Kate had been right. This was her only choice—kiss or no kiss.
She wondered at the expression on Nic’s face, at the way he had cradled Rosie in one arm as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He’d obviously been around babies before. Had he been a father once? Was that what was behind the fear and the pain she saw in him? She couldn’t imagine that anything but the loss of a child could draw such a picture of grief on someone’s face. He carried a pain that was still raw and devastating—so why on earth had he agreed to let her live with him?
She spun at the sound of a knock to the door, wondering for an instant if it was Nic, back to rescind his invitation, to tell her she wasn’t welcome anywhere near him. But instead of Nic it was her social worker standing in the doorway, case file in hand and a smile on her face.
